


A Boy and His Dragons

by Truffletarts



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! - All Media Types, Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:01:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25155133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Truffletarts/pseuds/Truffletarts
Summary: They’re not dreams, but it takes Kaiba years before he believes it.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't mind me here, apparently on a nostalgia trip atm.  
> 

Mokuba sleeps snuggled into their blanket, blissful and content. Seto moves his hand out from under tiny, fragile fingers to settle himself into a more comfortable position. A single cot is barely big enough for one child, let alone two, so Seto keeps both of theirs pushed together like one full-sized bed. Mokuba is all Seto has left, and their status together at the orphanage is a precarious thing. He fears that one day they'll be separated, and Mokuba will be gone like their father. Gone like the mother, he can't remember.

Eventually, he drifts, expecting his next lucid moments to be his baby brother shaking him awake.

* * *

_They're beautiful,_ he thinks. And it's a shame he can't find a more fitting word. They're so much more than that, with glossy white scales and deep indigo eyes. The sun radiates off them at certain points, and a blue sheen tints their color. They fly above the valley with enchanting grace, roaring, nipping, and dodge each other. It's almost playful, how they interact. Dipping and weaving through the open sky. 

Seto thinks he should be afraid. Thinks they should terrify him. He should be running for the nearest cover, stand frozen in fear, or do _anything_ but feed the blind fascination creeping through him. They're gigantic flying reptiles, with serrated teeth and grasping claws that could so easily crush him. One could swoop down like a great bird and eat him whole. There'd be nothing but a smear of red and jagged rakes in the earth.

Instead, a sort of peace comes over him as the dragons continue to dance above. Their roars make the ground thunder and quake. Seto feels their passion, their happiness. It floods him like he's standing neck-deep in a flowing river. It's warm and pleasant.

The Dragons never spot him from so far away, dashing about. He sits and watches, enjoying their presence. Time simply drifts by like a slowly roving fog—present, but not all that important compared to what's above him. He doesn't notice, but it stays that way for a long while. Just him, the dragons, and that welcoming ambiance.

* * *

Consciousness comes slowly. An increasing pressure gradually squeezes his chest and shoulders. Seto doesn't feel solid anymore. Like he's floating, and his feet aren't touching solid ground. The world starts fading away piece by piece, blurring to a backdrop and—

He opens his eyes.

A five-year-olds gap-tooth smile greets him. The bliss from the night dashes away, and the memories glaze over. Forgotten, in lieu of more pressing matters.

"Seeto!" Mokuba lisps, sitting flat on his chest, hands on his shoulders, and bouncing rapidly in place. "I gotta _pee_!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me, how am I doing on writing Kaiba so far?  
> I might be making Kaiba a little too open here, but I feel like he was not nearly as cutthroat back then as we often see him. I really wanted to strike a balance between him being a young child and also keep that closed off personality.


	2. Chapter 2

_"Look at you, Seto! Seven years old, and already so tall. You'll be a great big brother for little Mokie, won't you?"_

.

.

.

"Happy eleventh birthday, Seto!" Ms. Fumiko exclaims from the doorway of the playroom. One hand behind her back. The other clutching a sleepy toddler. 

The old nanny is all smiles and cheer. Her cheeks dimple from the constant gesture. She crouches, bending her knees, so they're practically eye level, and present a packet of cards. Some kind of game most likely. An excess of curly blue ribbons wraps around it, obscuring details. 

Birthdays are a common western tradition that has slowly carved out a niche in Japan. Seto can just barely remember the memories of cake and candles parties their widowed father threw for them each year. Before the accident, before everything but Mokuba was taken. They aren't celebrated at the orphanage, but Fumiko has a good memory and wears her heart like a shoulder badge for every kid within these halls. None of the other adults ever seemed to cares so long as it's coming out of her own pocket.

Her reasons are probably some pity thing. And as much as Seto loathes it, the boy endures. Because Mokuba can't wait till it's _his_ day, and Seto would grit through a thousand sad smiles and hand-me-down gifts just to see his baby brother's snaggletoothed grin.

So he lets her congratulate him and keeps the snark on the tip of his tongue. Beyond a short—and frustrating—moment of hugging, Seto is gratefully spared further bouts of affections. Instead, the boy can finally hold his present in peace.

It turns out to be a little different from most. It's new, still in the wrapper even. Normally the boy wouldn't care either way, but he turns it over to see blue-white and vaguely lizard shape on the back cover. He barely responds to the pat on his head with more than a scowl as the nanny retreats to do her rounds and leaves him.

Seto stares. His fingers softly trace over the words.

_Blue-Eyes White Dragon_

The picture doesn't do them justice. It's too still, too compact—designed to fit snugly on a card. But it's beautiful and the closest in likeness to them he's ever seen. Seto wonders where he might have seen _Duel Monsters_ before. Maybe a billboard or tv. Rationally, the dreams have to come from _somewhere_ in waking memory.

After the haze of the first night, Seto had seen them again. It's wasn't the night after or the next one after that. Mostly, he's doesn't dream at all, but the dragons and their valley appear infrequently.

With every instance, however, Seto recalls them with greater and greater clarity.

He rips the packet open, taking care to flip gently between each card. 

Unsurprisingly, there are no dragons—and Seto will _never_ let the disappointment show—but he tucks away a pair of odd clowns and 50 other less interesting monsters away to see if Mokuba wants them. Or perhaps, they could play together if there are enough cards to share between them. He's already been slowly building Mokuba's skills at chess.

Another game couldn't hurt.

* * *

Sometimes, when Seto sleeps, he can gradually feel the dream world come into being. 

Not this time, however. 

.

.

.

A torrent of deafening bellows hits his ears. The air kisses his face and beats his clothes. Seto freezes, not from fear, but because of the suddenness of it all. A warm bed, then cold high winds. There was darkness, then blinding light. He cannot _think,_ let alone be afraid.

" _What the—_ "

A brilliant sheen of rippling white surrounds him. From it, a trio of massive heads raises, swinging to attention. The force of their movement nearly topples him, and vaguely, he realizes he's standing on top of a steep cliffside—a cliffside with three white dragons towering over him. 

Death does not come by teeth, nor claw, nor fire. He does not startle from his bed out of the beginnings of a nightmare.

The Dragons look at him, and Seto stares back. It's a truce of sorts, and he cannot fathom _why_.

He's too busy processing it all. 

Throughout every dream, Seto has never been so close. He's always watching beneath their notice. Sometimes on some distant hill or far side valley plain. They're often near enough to see, but too far to reach. Here, he can touch them. Define the bumps and grooves of every individual scale. Observe how the scutes smoothly link together, forming segmented armor that runs down from their chests. 

And before he can stop himself, his hands are already stroking glossy keratin. When he fails to lose a hand for the gesture, he continues to rub his hand down the thick plates along the neck. The blue-eyes seem to welcome the appraisal, they bask in the attention even. Seto can feel the approval rolling off them.

It's almost comical how they preen.

_Prideful beasts_ , he thinks, chuckling. 

Then one of the dragons nudges him, chuffing. He's knocked gruffly onto his backside. From their brief contact, something passes through and soothes away the last of his disgruntlement. It radiates through him in slow waves.

_Warmth_

_Peace_

_calm_

The other pair of blue-eyes follow their sibling's lead. A soft nudging, as gentle as a massive dragon can get, and a greeting chuff. A vibrating, throaty rumble from all three follows. They take turns peering at him with those enchanting blue eyes and rumble softly. 

No words are shared between dragons and him, but _they don't need too._ Seto can sense their intent, _their emotions_ , so closely that they might as well be talking paragraphs.

And for him, it's enough. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The manga wiki gives some interesting details about Kaiba childhood before the Orphanage. ^^

_"You lose, now you have to adopt us like you promised, Mr. Kaiba."_

.

.

.

Seto _Kaiba_ is up by 5:00, early morning. He gets dressed, eats breakfast alone, and waits for the arrival of his 6 am tutor. The silence is awkward, Mokuba won't be up till eight at minimum, and by then, Seto will be knee-deep in textbooks and lectures until 10 in the evening. 

At his desk, a set of stacked newspapers to his left catches his eye. A couple of them show various shots of Mokuba clinging to his back. They're being escorted to the gates of the family mansion. 

He recognizes the moment. It's their first day at Kaiba manor.

Bold, obnoxious Kanji smears the top of every cover. 

**_Top Billionaire Adopts Wayward Orphans!_**

**_Exclusive: National Chess Champion Adores New Children_ **

**_Heirless CEO Shows His Compassionate Side:_ _Takes In Two_ **

Seto sneers, bemused.

Their adoption isn't some rags to riches feel-good nonsense. 

For all that the world loves to flatter him, Gozaburo isn't a nice man. And that's okay, Seto doesn't expect him to be _nice. Doesn't_ see the point of shrouding their bargain with some fake pretense of sympathy.

Gozaburo needs an heir. Seto can reliably be that in exchange for his brother's inclusion. There isn't much more to it despite how every fool with a camera and editorial may spin it. 

The papers are in the trash without a second thought. 

_Good riddance to garbage._

He doesn't have time to sit there and read idiocy. Not when he spends the day to day earning their keep.

Seto tests leagues ahead of his age group, better than most adults even, but Gozaburo only takes this as the opportunity to push and push and _push_. The tutors are harsh, but it's the servants that make his time miserable. Every slip-up, every failure or fault is reported straight back to his step-father. His workload doubles, Mokuba is kept away, and anything he enjoys—anything that's _fun—_ is marked for confiscation. 

Seto doesn't take it lying down. What he does is gets careful around the staff. He memorizes entire textbooks. He jots down every note he can till his hands are cramping and words seem to float and writhe off the pages. Seto keeps it up till he's regurgitating complex theories and formulas like a prized parrot. 

_And if some missing silverware or pieces of jewelry just so happens to be found in a maids pocket or manservants coattail, then that's not his problem now, is it?_

Week by week, it wears him down. Most days, he's passed out in bed and wakes up, ready to scream.

But he thinks of his Baby brother, remember's that the next best thing is separation in foster care, and tucks the madness back to the deepest corners of his mind. Sometimes he'll hug the things they sneak to each other by night. He'll substitute them for the physical contact he cannot have. 

They trade games and pass notes like it's contraband. 

_Seto won't go back, will not let Mokuba go back._

A sharp clicking digs into the wooden floor. Seto sits attentively still as Ms. Guillamue trots in. Hobson, family butler and resident thorn in his side, hot on her heels. 

" _Bonsoir, Monsieur Kaiba!"_ Her voice just barely manages to be heard over the awful noise of her shoes. They grate his ears. Seto wonders how she manages not to break her neck walking up the steps each day in those ugly things. 

" _Bonjour Madame, comment ça va?_ " He's a tad smug when the words come out impeccably. Especially as Hobson's beady, weasel eyes are burning daggers into his back. Waiting for him to make some kind of mistake. 

_Old bastard_

The women, nods then goes, " _Wǒ hěn hǎo, nǐ zhǔnbèi hǎole ma? "_

He's been stuck in enough etiquette classes long enough not to let the grimace show while he's trying to adjust accents.

" _Shì de "_

His tutor's hands clasp together with a sharp clang from her jewelry. She stands on bony legs and stretches to write something on the board. " _Then let us begin from the top, I want you to list three capital cities per country and describe in detail what they are most know for..."_

* * *

A mother doe springs from the woodland. Her pair of fawn bound behind her.

They flee in the wake of three furious dragons.

Just like the family of wild boars, the solo bear, and every bird and hare before them.

The dragons, their scales, are a very striking metallic blue today. It's remarkably like the defense displays one often sees in incredibly venomous animals. As they calm it would slowly transition back to that glistening white.

Then the next disturbance would set them off and they would stomp and rage all over again. 

Seto sighs, frustrated as the dragons halted their charge and return to the grassy field where he sits. It's not _him_ they're agitated with, but he does get the feeling that it's something related. The connection they have actively makes all the confusion _worse, like_ a looping feed of emotions. There isn't a word or language he can even begin to use to translate. 

If their calm is like wading through a warm river, then their rage is tantamount to rafting during a violent ocean storm. Seto feels like he's one perilous wave from drowning in it. 

The dragons are constantly tense, even with each other. They hiss and bite and snap viciously, tails twitching and head frills rising and falling. Their massive bodies crowd him in. Heads twist and necks arch to keep an eye on him and their surroundings. 

It's like they're _guarding_ him. 

_From what though?_

* * *

The alarm cuts through his unconsciousness like butter. Seto's hand slams down on the off switch. He surprises himself with how much force he uses. A blinking red 4:00 flashing on the cracked screen of a black background. Seto recalls that there's a 5 am lesson concerning rocket propulsion and missile trajectory today. Distantly, the fading sound of vicious cries whispers into his ears.

Remnants of last night's dream, he muses. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Bonsoir, monsieur Kaiba/ Hello Mr. Kaiba  
> *Bonjour madame, comment ça va /Hello madam, how are you?  
> *Wǒ hěn hǎo, nǐ zhǔnbèi hǎole ma?/ I'm fine, are you ready?  
> *Shì de/ Yes/Yes, that's right
> 
> I imagine the dynamic between Kaiba and Gozaburo is rocky from the start, but I think things don't go nuclear up until the virtual simulation system Kaiba designs is slated to be used for weapons. The spat they get into over that is when he stops calling the man step-father.
> 
> I'll leave you guys to guess what has the dragons riled up.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had thought to transition Seto into "Kaiba" for this last chapter, but it felt too jarring.

_"My Grandpa's deck has no pathetic cards, Kaiba!"_

.

.

.

He should be home for the National Dulest Championship. He should be _winning_ the damn thing. Instead, Seto has his secretary deliver his resignation. Against all protocol, he clears his schedule for an entire _week_. He's officially on vacation outside of Domino City. 

But really, what he is, is on the warpath, looking for sabotage. 

His tech team has checked the hardware, the software—has had specialist after specialist scroll through _hours_ of animation footage for Every. Single. Card—and dredged up pages upon pages of blueprints. But there's nothing there that shouldn't be. The duel disks are as perfect as they come—the best he's designed even. 

_But holograms don't glitch like this. They don't act like they're alive._

It has to be altered somehow. 

But how, and by _whom_ are his the biggest questions. The bitter old farts on his board are scheming _something,_ but none of them are in a position to so much as blink without his notice. Anyone else in the industry just doesn't have the skill to hide something like this from his company, from _him_. And the vetting process for his staff is tighter than the airlocks on a plane. 

If he has to figure it all out himself, then that's just what he'll do. The week with only himself and Mokuba will give him a head start, at least. 

_And they can finally have some time together._

Seto rubs his temple, reclines the chair, and pulls a card from his deck. He tilts his wrist, watching the leering dragon glow in the light. He can see the slight notch and crease where he had been about to rip it. His ears still ring from the screams that erupted through the stadium load speaker. He'd only managed to keep hold of the card on reflex. 

The fourth blue-eyes is one of the few hand-painted cards produced by Industrial Illusions. Most people want it for the clout, for the money. It's a rare moment to get a glance of it in person, let alone own it. 

For Seto, though, it represents the only other card that could have challenged his deck. 

_Or at least it had been._

The moment Seto loses to Yugi Muto is an instance he can't even _begin_ to describe. He was last year's reigning champion. Was slated to be this year's as well. Then along comes a nameless nobody and his merry band of idiots. Seto hasn't been so profoundly humiliated in a long, long time. And he should be angry. _He wants to feel angry._

Cheated even. 

It's more like a weight has been lifted from his shoulder. Like he can finally step down from the mania and _breathe_ again. But it's also frustrating how _lost_ he feels.

In the days that followed defeat, Kaiba is listless. The drive in him, the passion for the game, is muted. Not gone, but he looks at his deck, thinks of all the things he's _done_ for those cards, and wonders what's wrong with him. 

When had his brother become such a second thought in his mind? 

When had he forgotten their dream together for Kaiba Land? 

Seto sighs, puts the card back, and pulls out his laptop.

The first thing he's got to look over is the animation footage, _all of it._

* * *

**.**

.

.

Why is he here? _Where_ is here?

_The tents, the building, everything is burning._

Why is he so _small._ Why is he wearing _r_ _ags?!_

_Why is this happening? Why did they do this!_

Do _what_

_...Where's his mom._

_What_ mom?!

_She was supposed to follow him out. She was supposed to be right behind him!_

Stop _screaming; he_ can't think he-

_-wants mom._

" _Seth_ ," _she whispers. Her voice chimes like tiny bells. It's exotic, gentle._

_There's a word on the tip of his tongue, but he feels like he can't quite get the enunciation right. His hand reaches out; fingers stretch to cup her face—_

_"_ _I'm trying to protect you!"_

_"And I'm trying to protect_ you _!"_

_"Now, now. Don't be so greedy._ _Save her or save your Pharaoh. You can't pledge yourself to both, Priest."_

_"Seth wait, what's wrong._

_He's running. Set doesn't know why or where, but he has to find someone. Find her before it's too late._

_"Priest!"_

_"Set!"_

_"_ Seth!"

_"Seto!"_

_"I Summon Blue-Eye's Ultimate Dragon!"_

* * *

The building trembles—iron, stone, and wood creaks and groans. Groggy, Seto turns left, feels something in his hands, and rubs his eyes to clear the drowsiness. One glance at the cards in his hand and he jolts straight up.

He blinks, once, twice. Tries his best to understand. 

_What the fuck._

His prized cards are blank; the dragons are _gone._ There's just a backdrop of swirling purple and text. 

Then a bellow calls out to his left. Seto stands so quickly that his chair flips from the force. 

"What the _fuck._ " 

The skyline view of his penthouse is obscured by a sheen of blue-white and large Indigo eyes peering through the glass. Three pairs of them, to be exact. Another roar blasts his window. Blessedly the glass fails to crack from the beating it's taking.

Duel monsters outside his window, _madness._ He's gone completely nuts. 

Seto looks for the duel disk on his nightstand. It's still in pieces from late-night tinkering. And even if it was in full repair, it not physically capable of projecting _sound that makes the building rock._

Small, soft footsteps come from behind him. Kaiba turns and sees his brother. 

"Seto what—" Mokuba freezes in the doorway, staring _past_ Seto towards the three dragon heads chuffing at the glass. 

_He can see them._

The boy backs up, terrified, and nearly trips on himself. Seto moves quickly, already grasping his little brother's hand within seconds. He doesn't know what to say. What _can_ he even say? So he pushes Mokuba back, herds them both to the hallway. 

Two men rush to them. He takes a second to observe the black suits and sunglasses before nodding, relieved.

At least security has stopped taking their sweet time. 

"Kaiba sir, the building's being evacuated. I've secured the quickest route down." Roland gestures to go forward. Fuguta silently positions himself behind his employers. 

They make their way it down to the limo. The crowd of onlookers do not even notice them—not because of the three-headed beast crouching over them—but at the condominium quacking under the beat of it's wings. A long snaking tail shifts cars and slaps buildings. Nothing collapses, but it feels like a near thing.

"Oh my god..."

"Earthquake!"

"It's gonna fall!"

Mokuba squeezes his hand and manages to squeaks out, "Dr- _Dragon_ " before Seto lifts him forward into the car. When they're both buckled in, his left hand rubs circles into the younger's back, surprising himself. Seto hasn't done this since Mokuba was _eight._

His men don't so much as glance the dragon's way as they drive off.

Seto wants to chalk it up to their disciple, wants to say it's because his men are professionals. It's all because he'd never stand for a hint of mediocrity in his company employees. 

This is a hallucination. 

_It has to be._

But he stares up out the car window to see Blue-Eyes Ultimate Dragon following them from miles above and knows better. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This is the final chapter that inspired the entire piece. I even have some crappy doodles of it. Hopefully, I don't have to end up editing this thing to death.
> 
> *The term Pharaoh was not invited until far later than 5000 years ago. More like 3500 years ago. But this is magical anime bullshit Egypt, so Atem gets to be the first.
> 
> Now I have to go study for exams.  
> And then I'll be looking up episodes of One Piece I haven't seen in years because of course snippets are worth that much effort. (Writing pre Strawhat Nami is haaard, go figure)


End file.
